Chapter 43: Another Sinful Morning...

"It's sinful."

"Yes, well, I'm sure my services to Christ and His holy Church will make that all better," John scowled. He was bundling up his few clothes for easier carrying. It would have been nice to have a bag for them, but he would have to make do with a little rope. He wanted to leave behind as much as he possibly could, even the sacks. They might be of use. More use than he was.

"Do you think that will matter?" Henry pressed. The older man sat on the bench at John's table, hunched over a mug of cheap ale -- all John had to offer -- as he watched his young neighbor pack. "Fight the heathens. Reclaim the Holy Land. Hell, walk back home wearing Christ's own shoes. You'll still be a man who abandoned his lawfully wedded wife to another!"

"I am not abandoning her!" John snapped. He hurled the pack of clothing at the door to his small, one- room house and looked at Henry with pain and anger in his eyes. "She'll be looked after! She has you, doesn't she? She has William and his family."

"William is exactly who I'm talking about, and you know it, John. You're a cuckolded man, and you know that, too, and you do nothing about it."

"Cuck—Do you think it's that simple?! What would you have me do, Henry? Beat her? Beat William? Murder him? I suppose I could expose them to the ruin of his family and Katherine's own good name! Do you think that would that change her feelings for me? Would I find happiness in her public humiliation?"

"She's your wife."

"Because our parents arranged it! Not because we love each other. Do you think that was on their minds when they matched us?"

"You love her," Henry frowned. "That's why you encouraged your father to pursue this match. You just have to be a little firm with her! You're the man of this house! Act like it!"

"Have you tried laying with a woman while she cries? Have you, really?" It was a rhetorical question; Henry and his wife were the most openly affectionate couple anyone knew for miles. "Because I'll tell you, her tears do in fact leave me feeling unmanned. Quite so."

Henry waved his hand dismissively. "She'll get over this if you just get between them and remind her whose wife she is."

John looked ready to roar again, throwing his hands up in some gesture of rage, but then he stopped. The young man just didn't have the words anymore. He didn't want to leave angry. His hands fell, waving away whatever venom it was that he had been grasping for. "Her heart was never mine. She was honest enough with that. Never misled me. She loves William, and he loves her. Since before I was even a suitor. I'm just in the way here. The only real good I do as her husband is to lend my name to prevent less kindly men from laying claim to her."

"She's your wife, John. It's a sin."

"Tell me how love is a sin, Henry," John sighed painfully. "Tell me how locking up a woman who was forced to marry me and breaking her heart serves a greater good than what they have together."

Henry's silence made for a very quiet house. John didn't have all that much, but with his father's untimely death from illness, it was at least his. It would be Katherine's now, though, in all but name. That was fine. John wasn't too terribly worried about the family name.

"You'll look in on her?"

"Yes."

"And keep your mouth shut?"

Henry looked up at his friend a bit resentfully, but eventually softened. "You know I will."

John nodded. He hefted up his sack of food for the road, his bundle of clothing and the axe that had been in his family since his grandfather's time. There was no one else to see him off, but that had been handled in the days before. His land would be better tended through the aid of neighbors while he was gone than he could manage on his own. They were all just happy that one of their own was answering the call to take up arms for Christ, and wanted to do their part in support. John lingered only for a proper farewell to Henry before he walked out across his small farm and out onto the road.

He had already said his goodbyes to his wife before this. That was why she wasn't there when he left. She wept, full of guilt and confessing her sins to him, but she did not ask him to stay. She could barely bring herself to thank him.

His own Crusade, as it turned out, became more about fighting banditry than Saracens bent on holding Jerusalem. He lived another two years before he met his end, seeing far more action on the journey than he did in the Holy Land itself. He didn't live to see Jerusalem fall, which was just as well. The aftermath would have broken his heart almost as surely as Katherine herself had done.

John was lucky, or perhaps able to make his own luck. He met fellow Normans, men-at-arms who saw fit to train him and a few others to fight like warriors rather than peasants. That had been self-interest on their part, of course, and John performed more than a few favors in return. He earned a place among them. That place allowed him to journey with Robert II of Normandy rather than with one of the massive mobs of would-be Crusading peasants that succeeded only in burning and murdering Jews in Europe.

Several of those murdering peasants, in fact, died by John's hand. It was only luck of the draw, he always claimed, that kept his name among those that were constantly called to keep order and enforce some measure of justice among the Duke of Normandy's men. It was luck that put him among those who spent their time settling feuds between Christian warriors, sometimes with words and other times with violence

He put down three men who'd murdered their own captain, and later even faced down and slew a knight who'd raped a merchant's wife. All that happened before they had even reached Constantinople. He may have been a failure as a husband, but he turned out to be an excellent warrior, skilled with sword and shield and spear. By the time they got to the Holy Land, it was joked around the campfire that John would have a hard time slaughtering Saracens enough to equal the number of Christians he'd killed. It was also quickly added that he had acted with good cause in every case, of course.

In the end, that joke was all too accurate. He only fought a few battles against the Saracens. In each, he acquitted himself bravely. He rarely had time or energy for plunder when all was said and done, though, and the more he saw of the Holy Land the more he wondered if his heart was really in the quest.

He was there when Antioch fell. He fought heroically, but his final battle came in the hours following the taking of the city.

There was a noblewoman who'd come with the Crusaders, beautiful and regal with striking green eyes and golden blonde hair. John found her unsettling, but she had no time for one as lowly as him, anyway. She drifted from one lord to the next, attaching herself to the worst of people. In the wild hours immediately after Antioch fell, John found her with several men-at-arms and a clutch of cowering Saracen women. The noblewoman had accused the girls of swallowing jewels to hide them from their conquerors. She instructed the men-at-arms to retrieve them in any way necessary.

John asked his comrades, quite assertively, how they thought they would find the Kingdom of God by slitting bellies of defenseless Saracen peasants. It came to heated words, and then blows.

He was very good in battle. Quicker, smarter, sober. The three girls in question ultimately walked away from the matter, as did only two of the six Crusaders present. The others fell to John's sword. He very nearly defeated them all. The strangely beautiful noblewoman, standing behind him with a dagger, intervened before the last two men-at-arms were killed.

John himself did not walk away from that dispute.

He had friends. He was avenged, at least where the other two men he'd fought were concerned. No one spoke of the noblewoman. No one really remembered her having been with the Crusaders when she eventually disappeared after the fall of Jerusalem.

John's belongings and treasures and pay, in defiance of all the cynical realities of the times, actually made it home to Normandy. It was enough to provide a real measure of security. His wife had given birth to a child within nine months of his departure, who came to bear John's name.

No one ever accused Katherine of bearing another man's son. Nor did Katherine ever tell anyone that on their wedding night, John had dried her tears and promised, despite his own broken heart, to never take her without her consent. Nor did anyone speak ill in anything over a whisper when, a year after John's death and that of William's first wife, widow and widower were married.

John's last thoughts as he bled out from a dagger in his back in the dirty streets of Antioch were of her. His last prayer was that Katherine would live a long, happy life full of love.

She did.

************

Alex remembered nothing of his dreams that morning. They were gone from his mind in the first seconds of his waking, distracted as he was by the wondrous pleasures of Lorelei making love to his very erect phallus with her kiss.

Lorelei, for her part, could share only in dreams of his desires. In the couple of hours of sleep that he'd needed, he had several about her. It left her feeling very appreciated. She didn't dwell much on the other disjointed, fleeting images that ran through his unconscious mind after that.

She paused in her attentions just long enough to murmur, sweetly, "Good morning, my love."

Alex shifted, loving this, and stretched out a bit in the bed without opening his eyes. "Master," he corrected her with a very playful grin.

He felt her grin back. He could also feel her shudder, responding to that one word with excitement and arousal. Her body, draped over his legs, tensed and clung to him a bit more tightly. "Good morning, master," she acknowledged.

They had agreed to this out of love and trust, and now it felt so very good. He lay stretched out in the luxurious bed, enjoying the services of his very willing slave. He had no intention of interrupting her further. While he curled one arm under the pillow under his head, Alex reached down with his other hand to run his fingers through Lorelei's hair.

His touch conveyed his affection and thanks, and also just enough pressure to encourage her to increase her efforts. She moaned with pleasure as she did just that. Alex relaxed as she focused her every thought and action on his enjoyment. The feedback of their bond left her making sounds that were more than reassuring enough that she felt very rewarded for her efforts, both before and during his very long, satisfying release into her mouth.

She sucked him throughout his release, slowing from a fierce assault to a long, lingering aftermath of slow strokes. He made no move to stop her, nor did he make a sound beyond his deep breath. His hand remained gently laid against her head with his fingers laced in her silken hair.

Lorelei continued to work his flesh with slow, earnest passion. He did nothing to stop her. Knowing his desires, her attention continued, and at length began to slowly increase in its intensity until she was fiercely and wantonly pulling him toward climax yet again.

Alex didn't know how long this went on. He didn't know, and didn't care, and knew very well that he didn't need to. He made no effort to control his release, knowing that issue didn't really matter at all, either. When his body finally did give in to Lorelei's unyielding demands, quite without any self-denial from Alex, he panted and moaned aloud. He could have sworn that Lorelei was getting off on it even before he was.

She felt the slightest movement from his hand, the slightest stirring of his body, and responded. Lorelei slid herself up along his body, kissing and stroking across his torso and neck, until she brought her breasts to his face and her sex against his. She sank down upon it, pushing and slowly breathing out in rapture as she filled herself with him, and then her arms rose up around Alex's shoulders. She kissed at his neck with a soft, longing hunger. Alex's arms came around her, caressing the entire length of her body with his hands.

The words, "Thank you" came from them both at the same time. Alex grinned. Lorelei simply continued what she was doing, rolling her hips wantonly against his.

"My master is always welcome to my service," Lorelei murmured into his ear. "I am yours." Her voice was a bit lighter, a bit softer and even submissive, but as Alex had said, it was in no way meek. There was still endless confidence there. Even, he thought, a layer of control. This really was a partnership. Alex felt his love for her grow.

He stretched while she continued her easy grind. "Thank you anyway," he smiled, letting her spoil him, "and thank you for saying that."

Lorelei's head loomed over his, creating that dark curtain of her hair. "You are very welcome, master," she said with a grin that was equal parts relaxed and giddy. Her mouth descended upon his. She kissed him without coming up for air for quite some time. Finally, their lips parted, and she looked down at him with that same smile. "How may I serve you?" she asked.

"I want nonstop attention just like this. Use your judgment," Alex grinned. She nodded, watching him with obvious happiness as she gently but attentively rode him. A thought came to him. "How far do you... nevermind," he then said. She raised an eyebrow, and Alex finally told her, "I'm a little hungry."

"May I order and feed you breakfast, master?" Lorelei asked. That beaming look was undiminished. He could have sworn he felt a shiver go through her body as she spoke. There was certainly a tightening around him between her legs.

It sounded like it was too much when she said it like that. He was about to say something to that effect, about not letting this go to his head, but then he saw the shape of her mouth change as she tensed against him. "I have wished for this, master," she said, her composure wavering under this heightening of pleasure while he was just laying there ultimately doing nothing. He could feel her cumming against him, though. She was wet and pulsating and whimpering...and so very wondrously beautiful. "You've no idea how good this feels...I only wish I could share it with you."

He had a role to play here, too, every bit as much as she did. If he didn't want it to go to his head, he was just going to have to mind himself and communicate effectively with her when they weren't quite so deep into this intimacy.

"You may," he finally answered her request, "when you've composed yourself. Take your time," he added with a loving smile.

It took her good, long while. The show and the ride were more than adequate compensation.